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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341027">Our Very Own Christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13'>agentx13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, sharon carter month</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:34:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With their busy lives, Sharon and Steve don't always get to celebrate the holiday on the holiday itself. But it's the spirit, and not the date, that counts, so whether it's Christmas or not, it's Christmas.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sharon Carter Month</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Our Very Own Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sharon Carter was not a baker. She was barely a cook. When it came to her kitchen skills, she’d choose to wash dishes every time.</p>
<p>And yet, here she was. In the kitchen. Cooking.</p>
<p>Baking? Either cooking or baking. One of them.</p>
<p>She’d gathered the ingredients, just like all the baking guides she’d read said to do. She had all the equipment set up, just like the people on YouTube said to do. She had the oven preheating, just like the directions said to do. Although it had finished preheating several… however many minutes ago. The gingerbread had been tougher to mix than she’d thought it would be.</p>
<p>Somewhere, she had gone terribly wrong. She hadn’t moved from this two-by-two-foot space, and yet the kitchen was a shambles.</p>
<p>Sharon, flour on her nose, in her hair, possibly in one ear, and a molasses smeared on one cheek, grimly surveyed the damage.</p>
<p>She pointed the wooden spoon at the bowl in front of her. It had taken all her skills as a spy, all her research in the past week, and all her inner strength to get to this point. </p>
<p>“Fuck you,” she told it.</p>
<p>She glanced at the clock on the oven, but the time had been replaced by a 350 in glaring green digits. She sighed. Time to do this. She still had to get cleaned up before Steve came home.</p>
<p>The mixture smelled right, she thought as she moved it into the pan, but why was it so <i>thick?</i> Was it supposed to be? Had she done it wrong after all?</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” she sang to her doubts and the gingerbread both, as she shoved the pan into the oven. </p>
<p>She pulled out her phone to set the timer. “Kicked your ass,” she muttered to the gingerbread. “Kicked it big time. Fuck you, asshole.” She lightly kicked the oven door, more a display of her feelings than an outlet for them.</p>
<p>“That’s not about me, I hope.”</p>
<p>Sharon jumped and spun. “Steve!” He wasn’t supposed to be home until- She looked at her phone again, this time noting the clock. Shit.</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone else?”</p>
<p>“No.” She swiped some hair out of her face, belatedly noticing the feeling of hardened molasses on her cheek. She rubbed at it, not realizing she was just covering it in flour. “I thought you wouldn’t be home for a while. Time got away from me. Um. Let me get the place cleaned up.”</p>
<p>Steve leaned to the side to look around the kitchen island, his hands in his pockets. “Have you taken to making cocaine in our kitchen?”</p>
<p>“That was last week.” She’d always been better at cleaning the kitchen than cooking in one, and she grabbed a kitchen towel and shoved it under the sink faucet. “You go sit down. I was thinking we could have hot chocolate. Watch old movies.”</p>
<p>His eyes danced. “Our very own Christmas?”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “We got kind of busy this year, and we don’t tend to get time to ourselves,” she admitted. “I know it’s a little late, but I thought it might be nice.”</p>
<p>He nodded and stepped forward, gently taking the towel from her. “It sounds amazing. Just one problem.” He dabbed at her cheek, and it wasn’t lost on her how much care he always took with her. All that strength in his hands, and yet his movements were so careful and soft…</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you got called in for another mission.”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “Nope. I’m off for the evening. I was just thinking… Christmas is supposed to be spent together.”</p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow. “With old movies and hot chocolate?”</p>
<p>“And with the people you care abo- Let me see your ear.” She turned her face, and he grimaced. “Sharon. For God’s sake.”</p>
<p>She grinned. “I have other qualities. Arguably better ones.”</p>
<p>“I do like your other qualities.” He tugged on her ear lobe as he dabbed with the cloth. He sniffed. “Is that gingerbread?”</p>
<p>She nodded, the gesture too small to upset his movements. “I found a recipe that’s supposed to be more like cake. I thought that, hot chocolate, marshmallows…” The recipe had proclaimed itself to be old-fashioned, but he didn’t need to know that.</p>
<p>“It sounds amazing,” he murmured. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You know, if I help you clean up, we can start with the hot chocolate and old movies faster…”</p>
<p>“Oh, Jesus,” Sharon said, staring at his face.</p>
<p>His expression turned to one of alarm. “What?”</p>
<p>She smiled and brushed his lips gently with her fingers. “I didn’t realize I had flour on my forehead.” Realizing she must have flour on her forehead, she smacked her forehead. She pulled her hand away and groaned as flour sprinkled downward. “How did that even <i>happen?</i>”</p>
<p>Steve laughed. “I think it’s cute.”</p>
<p>She picked up a wooden spoon from the sink. “I, sir, am <i>not</i> cute. I am capable of killing people in a multitude of ways.”</p>
<p>“You’re <i>damn</i> cute.”</p>
<p>“Damn straight.”</p>
<p>They looked at one another for several seconds, their eyes and smiles soft, and then Sharon roused herself. “You just got back from work. You go change. I’ll clean up. Gingerbread and hot chocolate should be ready soon.”</p>
<p>“Aye, aye, cap’n.” He gave her a salute and headed to the bedroom. She set about cleaning and was nearly done when he reappeared in a thick sweater and pajama bottoms. “Your turn,” he told her. He considered her for a moment. “You might need a little longer,” he teased. “You got flour in your hair, too.”</p>
<p>“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, barely stopping herself from swatting her hair and triggering another cloud of flour.</p>
<p>“Smells good!” Steve called after her.</p>
<p>She stopped in the hall and turned. “Me or the gingerbread?”</p>
<p>“Both,” he said, his lips quirked in a smile.</p>
<p>“You’re so full of crap,” she said without any anger.</p>
<p>“And soon, gingerbread!”</p>
<p>She grinned and ducked into the bedroom. A glance at herself in a mirror, and she realized the only thing to be done for her hair was a shower. Still, she was used to getting ready quickly, and it wasn’t long before she was dressed in one of his tattered old sweaters and some pajama bottoms. She carried some blankets to the living room, noting that the air was now thick with the scent of gingerbread. She took a deep breath. She did that, she told herself proudly.</p>
<p>“Almost time,” Steve called.</p>
<p>She tossed the blankets onto the couch and made a beeline for the kitchen. “You go find a movie. I’ll finish up.” Let’s see… the directions said that it was best to stove-heat the milk. She could do that.</p>
<p>By the time her phone chirped, she had two cups of hot chocolate, piled high with marshmallow, peppermint, and chocolate shavings, on a tray, and she tackled the gingerbread pan with oven mitts and a knife. She’d run SHIELD. She’d fought HYDRA. She was a Daughter of Liberty. She could do this.</p>
<p>“Oh my God I did it,” she whispered.</p>
<p>“What?” Steve called from the living room.</p>
<p>“Nothing!” Damn his super-soldier hearing. She moved the gingerbread to a plate and carried the tray to the living room table. She glanced at the screen. “The Thin Man?”</p>
<p>“Classic.”</p>
<p>She grinned and curled up beside him as he pulled the table closer with a foot. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas, Sharon.” He kissed her head and chuckled. “Needs more flour.”</p>
<p>She nudged him in the ribs and handed him his hot chocolate. “Watch it, mister.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around her. Setting the hot chocolate on the table beside the couch, he took a bite of gingerbread. “Mm,” he murmured. “Good!”</p>
<p>She relaxed. She hadn’t realized how worried she’d been. But no. She’d followed directions. She’d outsmarted Machinesmith. Of <i>course</i> she could bake gingerbread. She smirked. “Yeah, it is.”</p>
<p>“I say you’re in charge of this every year.”</p>
<p>Sharon remembered the mess in the kitchen, the sight of her reflection in the mirror. Panic began to build. “Wait.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed and kissed her forehead. “We have a while to work it out. Merry Christmas, Sharon.”</p>
<p>“Hmph.” She settled against him. Maybe she <i>could</i> do this again, she reasoned. Just with more safety precautions in place. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just five more days to vote for next year's <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1goHBjj2uGHsi5JVNTwyxcFecFHwsTkSPIbtbZKe7eQ0/edit">Sharon Carter month prompts</a>!</p>
<p>And as always, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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